I was born in the midst of the civil unrest of the 60s – just months before the assassination of JFK. I was also born white, to an educated middle class family, in the socially progressive bubble of the Pacific Northwest. My father was nearly 50 when I was born, and he struggled with the challenges of parenting on a lot of levels. But wherever else he may have failed, he got the most important things right.

When I was in the seventh grade and Portland Public Schools began desegregation, my father made a radical suggestion. I had been lamenting how unfair it was that my new friend, an African American girl who was bussed from her familiar surroundings every day to an all white neighborhood far from her home, never got to spend any time with schoolmates outside of class or recess. Invite her to come home with you after school one day this week, my dad says. He even offered to drive her back to her house after he finished work.

Just the idea, at which I was simultaneously awed and terrified, was shocking. Even at 12 years old, I understood that what my father was advocating was more than a little risky. It was provocative, if not dangerous, bringing a person of color into our neighborhood. And equally provocative, if not dangerous, for my father to drive her home – a white man with a black child (especially a girl) in an all black neighborhood. But my father made the offer and encouraged me to act on it without addressing any of this. It was an ordinary, everyday extension of hospitality. He was teaching me not to treat others differently just because they looked differently, no matter what others might think or say or do, without ever saying the words. Because he knew that the words could never ever be as powerful as his behavior.

I remember how hesitant my friend was to even entertain that invitation, and we both were pretty sure her mother would never allow it. But, she did. And that’s how Jackie came over to my house after school one day. It was fun. But it wasn’t lost on either of us how nervous my mother was when it was time for dad to drive Jackie home, especially when he allowed me to come along for the ride. We all knew what was at stake, and we did it anyway.

A couple of months later, I took a punch defending a friend from a schoolyard bully. Two years later, with my father’s guidance, I reported a city bus driver for forcing a black child off the bus claiming she hadn’t paid her fare. She had, and everyone on the bus knew it. And that was just the beginning.

In the decades since, I have never once questioned who I am or what I stand for or what to do about it. I have always known to the core of my being where my line is drawn and to what lengths I will go to hold it. In case you’re still wondering, THAT is what it looks like to stand up for what is right in this world. DO right, even if it means you might be putting yourself in harm’s way. Because, though you might not realize it, you already ARE in harm’s way.

I’ve seen a lot of folks struggling to find a way to respond to recent events, and a lot of social media peeps advocating for donations to various civil rights organizations and social justice activism groups – which is awesome. By all means, throw your support behind the folks already fighting on the front lines. However, if that’s ALL you do, if you’re not actively pushing back against injustice when you see it happening in your daily lives, I’m sorry, but you are part of the problem. You are, and you need to own that.

But if you ARE pushing back, if you are calling out bad behavior and shouting down hate when you’re faced with it, then for goodness sake, ease up on yourself a little. You’ve already got this. And I should know, because an old white man taught me so.

“There is a tide in the affairs of men. Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat, And we must take the current when it serves, Or lose our ventures.” (Julius Caesar Act 4, scene 3, 218–224)

I am proud of my liberal arts education. As much as it prepared me for life as a professional communicator, it also prepared me for adulthood in ways many other people never get the chance to experience. A liberal arts education doesn’t just produce teachers and journalists and historians and scholars, it produces thinkers.

As a student of the arts, I was introduced to a vast array of social, political, historical, cultural, philosophical and theological perspectives. I was expected to examine opposing schools of thought and expose myself to disparate experiences across the whole of human existence. I was required to acknowledge my limited understanding and reach beyond it, to explore outside myself. These lessons translated to life skills, and I was made better for the objectivity that my university education instilled in me. Who wouldn’t be?

The liberal arts approach to learning helped me to develop a willingness to question and challenge my personal perceptions. I discovered that by framing my beliefs and values with a scope much wider than my individual view would ever allow, whatever my conclusions might be, they are informed by the cumulative wealth of fact, historical record, and the collective experience of the greater world, not just one thin slice of it. The result is a justifiable and defensible confidence in my own convictions.

I think most everyone believes they are already engaging in this kind of analysis. Maybe they are, but my experience is that while people generally believe they are regularly exercising their critical thinking muscles, in actuality, they are not. Let’s be honest. If they were, our society would not be in the muck it is today. Sadly, too many have succumbed to the persistent and perpetually self-sustained illusion that our virtual inter-connectivity keeps us informed and involved. But the reality is we really aren’t as connected as we think we are – not to each other, or the big issues that matter to our well-being.

Social media allows people to feel engaged without having to show up, do the work, or give any of it much thought. It encourages reflexive responses. We are too quick to take Talking Heads at face value (especially the orange one), or maybe we don’t, but then neither do we hold them accountable for what they say – even when they lie. Somehow information and propaganda have become indistinguishable from each other, and hard facts are now fluid. We invest our funds and our faith in whoever tells us what we most want to hear, no matter what the real outcome might be.

But that’s not how things work in a functioning republic, at least not for long. Eventually the consequences of abdicating our duty to make informed decisions catches up to us. And yet, even when the consequences are inescapably dire, too many of us are still willing to be blindly led rather than look directly at the facts, draw independent conclusions, and act accordingly. And apparently, given recent election results, we’re okay with that. Except that some of us aren’t.

Over the years, I’ve discovered that I am incapable of turning a blind eye to anything. Believe me, I’ve tried. But in the end I came to accept that how I walk and talk in this world matters. I believe that I am accountable to and for others, and I strive to conduct myself with that thought first and foremost in my mind. To do that, I practice objectivity in my daily life, the same way others practice spiritual or religious tenets. For some of us, objectivity is a core value.

Objectivity is not a state of being or a quality of character. It is not tolerance or neutrality or acceptance. Objectivity is, simply put, a method for evaluating everything you encounter – people, places, ideas, information and events – without bias or prejudgment. It is exhausting, exasperating, and often overwhelming. But it is the only path to truth.

Becoming a critical thinker is only one of the many civic duties in a democratic society, though it might be the most important. Do you practice objectivity? Everyone should, often if not always. If you do, some or all of the steps on my personal checklist will sound familiar. If not, you might want to give some or all of them a try.

A 7-Step Guide to Critical Thinking:

Seek first to understand – not just to validate your preconceptions and prove yourself right.

Gather all of the available data, not only the information you’re comfortable with or that which is easily found.

Challenge the veracity of your sources, no matter how tried and trusted they are.

Do the tough work of separating fact from opinion and acknowledge the truth of things, even when that truth contradicts what you already believe. Especially then.

When your conclusions don’t align with those of people you generally respect, wonder why. Re-examine your point of view before dismissing someone else’s.

Weigh what you learn against what you know, but keep your finger off the scales. Let them tip on their own. One side will usually outweigh the other.

Then and only then, make up your mind. Whatever course of action you follow from there depends upon what you hope to gain, but at least you’ll know what you’re getting yourself, and others, into.

It’s time for everyone to show up, do the work, and give everything some real thought. Use my guide, or create your own. Share it. Challenge people to follow your lead. Hold yourself and others accountable for the decisions they make and the actions they take. THAT’S how we make America great again.